


I'll Forever Stay Your Perfect Enemy

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Genital Torture, Humiliation, Infidelity, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Painplay, Past Relationship(s), Riding Crop, S&M, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Pansy catches Ginny in her house, she decides to play with her. Just like they used to play in the good old days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Forever Stay Your Perfect Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink 'Clit Spanking' for [HP Kinkfest](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Firstly, a massive thank you to my beta beililee who made time at short notice to look this over for me. Secondly, thank you to writcraft for prompting such a delicious kink, there really isn't enough clit spanking kink about and I'm glad I could write some for this fest <3
> 
> This fic is set after the war however there are references to past sexual situations where Ginny is 16 and Pansy is 17 (which although not underage in the UK, it is in many other countries).

“Ginny Weasley,” Pansy muttered, her voice still filled with derision after all these years. “And here I thought today was going to be boring.”

“Fuck you, Parkinson!” Ginny shouted up at her with a scowl. She would have spat in her face had she been closer.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be so rude,” Pansy pointed out. She was right; ropes bound her hands behind her back and each of her ankles to a corresponding chair leg. She could possibly squirm, if she tried really hard. “So it’ll be _Ma’am_ from now on.”

“Yeah, right,” Ginny said, glaring up at her captor.

“Come on, Weasley, don’t be like that.” Pansy squatted down on the floor so they were level. “Don’t you remember that year back at school? The _good_ year. Do you remember how every time I caught one of your friends sneaking about to that secret club of yours, you’d beg me not to turn them in, and you’d do anything so long as I would let them go? Aren’t you going to plead this time? Don’t you have anything to offer me now that you’re Potter’s little whore?”

“I’m not his whore. I’m his wife.” Ginny turned her head away, not daring to look into Pansy’s eyes, not now she knew what she was after. 

“Same thing.” Pansy shrugged. “We used to have fun, didn’t we?”

“I...” Ginny struggled for a comeback, her cheeks flushing because it had been fun in a twisted, scary way and she knew Pansy knew that. “It was survival.”

“Hah! It was fucking! You would have survived just fine without your head between my legs.” Pansy stood up and turned her back on Ginny, her attention now on a table just out of Ginny’s eye line. For a second she feared she was about to be tortured but the fear passed, she knew Pansy would get more pleasure breaking her sexually than physically. She wanted her to be that scared, voracious young girl. She wanted her to spill all her secret desires. She wanted her to admit she _wanted_ it.

Ginny could feel the heat burning her cheeks now, her own mind doing enough to embarrass her without Pansy prompting it. But when the other girl turned, Ginny found a bittersweet smile on her lips rather than the usual way her they curled contemptuously.

“When I bought this, I actually thought of you.” Pansy glanced down at her hands and Ginny’s eyes followed, widening slightly at the sight of the crop in her hands. “No, that’s a lie. I was thinking purely of myself but still...”

Ginny cursed herself for a single moment in time where she’d been silly enough to open up to Pansy about some of her less vanilla desires. The image of a riding crop being brought down on her freckled skin was one of those desires. She started to notice other touches too, the rope, the name-calling, the _Ma’am_. All of them stemmed from one confession or another. 

“What are you going to do?” Ginny asked, not sure where the boundaries were anymore. Was she truly a captive or was Pansy just fucking with her mind? The Ministry had always had their suspicions about her but Ginny hadn’t found anything while searching her house. That could have been because she was hit with a curse midway through her search though.

“Nothing you don’t want me to do. Deep down somewhere in that slutty little heart of yours.”

Ginny tested her bonds again, just to check she really couldn’t escape. “I want nothing from you.”

“But you’ll take what I offer.” Pansy took a few steps towards her and trailed the crop over her clothed thigh. “Won’t you?”

“No.” Ginny protested, certain that she couldn’t be so easily seduced by Pansy any more but the word came out shakier than she’d intended.

“No?” Pansy lifted the crop and brought it back down over her thigh. It didn’t hurt, her trouser leg stopped it connecting with flesh yet she still clamped her eyes shut reflexively. “Are you sure?”

Pansy flicked her other wrist, her wand less threatening than the whip. Ginny expected pain but instead felt cold, the spell taking away her clothing, leaving her only in her underwear.

“No,” she said again, sounding even less sure of herself. The cold had highlighted how wet she was, how much she was turned on already.

The air whistled and the crop hit her bare skin, leaving a pink line where it had touched. Ginny’s body shook but she didn’t know whether it was in excitement or pain, the two becoming entwined already.

“Last chance, Weasley.” Pansy lifted the crop again and held it, refusing to bring it down, letting anticipation work its magic.

“Yes!” Ginny gave in after half a dozen heartbeats. “God, please, just do it.”

“That’s what I thought,” Pansy said, cracking the crop over the same strip of skin. She moved away after, twirling the crop between her fingers like a baton. “Let’s make this interesting, shall we? If you can make it past twenty before coming, I’ll let you go. Just like the good old days.”

Ginny nodded and Pansy looked at her pointedly until she spoke. “Yes.”

“Yes...?” She prompted.

“Yes, Ma’am,”Ginny said, the _Ma’am_ rolling off her tongue like honey, sweet and warm and _right_.

“Good girl.” Pansy smiled dangerously, something that had scared many a good Gryffindor in her school days but had always had a different effect on Ginny. “Would you like me to take these off?” She slipped her finger under one of Ginny’s bra straps.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Ginny answered.

“Good little sluts say please when they ask for something,” Pansy reminded her, the old rules sliding back into place.

“Yes, please, Ma’am,” Ginny corrected herself.

Pansy flicked her wand again, leaving Ginny with nothing but her own skin. “Spread your legs.”

Ginny hesitated and Pansy brought the crop up to her cheek. She didn’t strike her but the threat was there.

“Spread your legs like the whore I know you are,” She said again and this time Ginny obeyed, pushing her knees as far apart as the rope around her ankles would let her. “That’s better.”

Pansy slipped her wand into her belt and trailed the crop over Ginny’s skin. She teased her nipples and her clit with light touches, making her brace herself every time it was lifted away from her body. When Pansy finally brought it down over her breast, she looked almost relieved.

“ _One_. Say it,” Pansy commanded.

“One. Ma’am,” Ginny repeated back at her.

The crop came down over her other breast, sending a jolt straight through her.

“...Two,” Pansy prompted.

“Two, Ma’am.”

When the crop came down the third time, catching her nipple, she didn’t need to be told.

“Three, Ma’am.”

Pansy smiled to herself, bringing the crop down three times in quick succession. Ginny bit back a sob, not sure what she should say.

“Four, five...” Pansy said.

“Four, five, six, Ma’am,” Ginny said, rushing so much she nearly tripped over her words.

“Good little slut,” Pansy said, her fingers stroking over the hot, pink skin, soothing it.

When she brought the crop down again, it hit her stomach, barely above her navel. Ginny tensed her abs, determined not to cry out yet.

“Seven, Ma’am,” Ginny said, watching as Pansy circled her, stopping behind her and leaning over her shoulder bringing the crop down twice on the inside of her thighs, one for each side.

“Eight, nine...” The crack of the crop interrupted her, stinging so close to her clit that she could feel the blood pulsing to it. “Eight, nine, ten. Ma’am. Please.” 

“Go on then, stick your pretty little cunt out, beg for it like slut.” Pansy told her.

Ginny lifted her hips and leaned up as far up as the chair would allow, exposing her pussy as much as possible. She snapped her hips back down onto the chair when Pansy’s crop struck one of her outer lips, making the blood sing and rise to the surface.

“Eleven, Ma’am,” Ginny said, her voice breaking as she said ma’am. It hurt but it was sweet, her survival instinct wanted to twist away from the sting but the rest of her craved it.

“I said shove your cunt out, whore,” Pansy said, her voice so close to her ear that her head rang.

“I’m sorry!” She said, leaning up again, her legs straining to keep her balanced.

Pansy brought the crop down on her clit, making Ginny cry out.

“Twelve!” She screamed. “Ma’am.” Her whole body shook but she kept her hips up.

“Good girl.” Pansy leaned in close, kissing and biting at her neck as she held the crop in the air, building anticipation, tricking Ginny into relaxing. When the crop came down, Ginny screamed properly, unable to hold it in.

“Thirteen, Ma’am,” she said afterwards, her voice and her breathing ragged. She sounded almost completely broken.

“Have you had enough?” Pansy asked in best her attempt at a soothing voice. “Or do you want more?”

“No.” Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. “More, please. Please keep going.”

Pansy leaned down over her, her fingers seeking out a nipple. She pinched it hard between her fingernails.

“Please!” Ginny begged, not even sure what she was asking for: more or less, relief or agony. “Please!”

She jumped like she’d been shocked when the crop struck her, full across her clit. Pansy twisted her nipple as she tried to ride out the pain and overcome it.

“Fourteen, Ma’am,” Ginny said finally, the words beginning to lose their meaning.

Pansy glanced at the crop, starting to resent it. She wanted to make the little blood traitor writhe with her bare hands; she wanted to feel the sing of flesh under her palm. She tossed it aside and took her hand off of Ginny’s tit, trailing it lower.

When she got to Ginny’s lips, she found them swollen and soaked. She rubbed her fingers roughly over her clit, over stimulating the sensitive skin. Ginny moaned nonetheless, getting off on every touch that Pansy gave her, whether it was soft or hard.

“Don’t you dare come yet,” Pansy warned her, lifting her hand away and bringing it back down as hard as she could at her angle. Despite the chair and Ginny’s body between her and her target, she still hit the mark, her palm coming back damp and stinging, nothing compared to what Ginny felt.

“Fifteen?” Ginny asked, not sure if the direct contact was a trick.

“Yes. Fifteen,” Pansy whispered, her fingers moving back to her clit before delivering another slap, appreciating how Ginny’s clit was bright red, both from the blows she’d struck and the way it turned the girl on.

“Sixteen, Ma’am,” Ginny counted, sure of herself now. 

“If you come before twenty, I will make you wish you hadn’t,” Pansy promised, unable to ignore the flush that had crept all over Ginny’s body and the sweat that was beading down her chest.

“I won’t,” Ginny promised. “I won’t come, Ma’am, not until you say I can.”

Pansy smiled to herself. She’d missed this kind of sport and the control it gave her. Most people didn’t bend to her will as easily as they used to when the only divide were the house colours.

“That’s right, you Gryffindor slut,” Pansy said, slapping her clit again and again, twice in succession, once for Gryffindor, once for slut.

“Eighteen, nineteen, Ma’am,” Ginny said through clenched teeth. She was shaking from the effort of keeping herself from coming, each slap making her think she’d lose her control but she had learnt long ago how to keep herself in check. Pansy had taught her how.

“One more,” Pansy told her, bringing her fingers up to Ginny’s mouth and smiling when she eagerly sucked on them, making them wet. 

“Beg for it,” Pansy commanded her, taking her fingers back and running them over her body again, leaving a line directly from her collarbone to her cunt.

“Please! One more, just one more...” Ginny started, cut off by the sound of skin hitting skin, that one final slap.

“Not yet,” Pansy said, grabbing her hair and yanking it, making sure she had her attention. “I want to taste you when you come.”

Pansy disentangled herself from Ginny and got on her knees in front of her. Despite the position of submission, Pansy was very much still in control as she pulled Ginny forward by her thighs, until she was sat on the edge of the chair and within easy reach. She put her lips to Ginny’s cunt. She could feel the blood throbbing in it against her tongue; she could almost taste it. She’d barely touched her when Ginny started convulsing, warm liquid gushing down Pansy’s chin. It had been Pansy who’d taught her she could come like that, more thoroughly and violently than she’d ever come with any boy.

Pansy licked her lips and then wiped her face with the back of her hand, satisfied with a job well done. Not that she’d ever say anything like that. To admit anything less than contempt for the girl would be unthinkable, even if she had begun to think fondly of her. She pulled her wand free and released her from the ropes.

“Your clothes and some Floo power are on the side there.” Pansy gestured towards the same table that she’d gotten the crop off of. “Until next time, Weasley.”

She gave Ginny a wink before she apparated away, promising herself that there certainly would be a next time.


End file.
